


To Serve Life

by imagine0314



Series: Sobeck Women [1]
Category: Horizon: Zero Dawn (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Bisexuality, Drama, F/F, F/M, Family, Hurt/Comfort, Mother-Daughter Relationship, One Shot, Prequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-10-21 15:17:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20695676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imagine0314/pseuds/imagine0314
Summary: "She would have wanted to know you, Aloy. She would have loved being your grandmother.""Did she have you yet?""Oh no, she was twenty-eight when she had me. She really, really, would have loved you, kiddo.""You think so?""Oh I know it. She was fierce like you. Brave. Way braver than me. Always took care of the two of us alone."------Elisabet Sobeck will be born March 11, 2020.Forty-six years later, she will save the Earth.One thousand years after that, Aloy Sobeck will save us again.But first, there was Miriam Sobeck. A woman who lived a life.Prologue toOf Mother and Machine.  A one-shot exploring the pre-history of Elisabet Sobeck.





	To Serve Life

**Author's Note:**

> This fic specifically inspired by and written for FriendlyNeighborhoodDisaster.

**SEPTEMBER 2019**

Two.

Red.

Lines.

That was all it took to make it all come crashing down, the realization that there was no going back. That no matter what she chose, this would be a delineation in her life. 

There would be a before.

And an after.

She should have known. She should have taken better precautions--she knew that. She'd been stressed and working so much and had needed to blow off steam and he'd looked so _fun_ and inviting. Like she could just take a night away from her life. Away from the tragedy of the past year. Away from _herself._

The first few weeks had gone unnoticed, too busy with the travel and bustle of her career. And then, when the slow-creeping suspicion had snuck in, low and dangerous, she'd ignored it. This couldn't be happening. Not to her. She was always so free-willed. So fierce. Nothing could touch her. And finally, after another few weeks had passed, the truth becoming more and more obvious--more and more blatantly _felt_\--she'd finally relented. 

She could always hope she was wrong.

But no such hope mattered now as reality slammed harshly into her, a head-on collision in the story of her life. 

She slid down against the edge of the tub, dropping the plastic onto the floor, pulling her knees to her chest as she collapsed in on herself with the weight of decisions yet to be made. Fiery red hair cascaded along her shoulders and she pretended that if it covered enough, it would shield her from the sick nervousness crawling through her limbs.

Miriam Sobeck had never felt so alone.

\------

Okay.

First things first. 

"Yes...I'll uh...that time works. Thank you," she said, placing the phone down on the kitchen counter. It had taken her a solid three hours just to work up the courage to call, during which time she'd wondered what she'd actually say when she got there. What did she _want?_ It seemed like a simple enough question, an equation that wasn't hard to follow, but with so many variables that solving it would take a lifetime. 

She ruffled her hand through long, flaming locks, her green-gold eyes glassy with tempestuous conflict. It's not like she _had_ to be this worried. It's not like she was seventeen. She was twenty-eight, with a career in agricultural bioengineering. A niche, but a desperately needed one. She lived comfortably, despite the food shortages slowly becoming more rampant in the third world countries. Despite the widening gap between rich and poor. Despite the world toeing the line of ecological disaster. Her means and location thankfully shielded her from most of it, leaving the world's decay relegated to a problem she tirelessly worked to solve daily, but one that had left her relatively unscathed.

She'd been booked three days from now, but it seemed an eternity to wait. She knew what came next. The part she'd been dreading almost worse than the call she'd just made. The part where she texted him and he told her what she already suspected to be true.

She flicked through her contacts list before finding it:

_Nick from BioCorp Industries._

Fuck. She hadn't even gotten his last name. Not that it had mattered at the time. It was just for fun. It was just to let loose. It was just casual. They hadn't needed to know much else. She nervously began to type, deleting and rewriting the message over and over again. In the end, she decided, nothing was going to feel _right._

_ **To: Nick** _

_ **From: Miriam Sobeck** _

_ **M: Hey, Nick? It's me. I think we need to talk. Could you message me when you've got some time?** _

_ **N: Who is this?** _

Shit. He hadn't even saved her number. Miriam bit her lip until a coppery taste touched her tongue. 

_ ** M: It's Miriam. From the Agrarium survey team back in July. We went out that night after the corporate events were over?** _

_ **N: Oh hey :) Yeah that was a good time. What's up? You back in town?** _

_ **M: No, I'm back home in Nevada. ** _

_ **N: Oh, so what's going on?** _

_ **M: Something happened.** _

_ **N: ...What do you mean? :/** _

_ **M: I think you know. You really going to make me say it? ** _

_ **N: Shit. I mean, you're not keeping it, right? ** _

_ **M: I don't know.** _

_ **N: Look, we had a good time but I didn't sign up for this.** _

_ **M: Neither did I. I don't know what I'm going to do.** _

_ **N: It was a mistake, okay? No big deal. I mean, I can pay for whatever it'll cost to just end this.** _

Miriam looked at the illuminated screen, her jaw set so tight she felt her teeth might crack. His last message had said it all. _A mistake._ And maybe he was right. It's not like they'd intended anything more. She hadn't even really expected to see him again. Several minutes passed while she choked back the emotion building in her throat. If she chose anything other than what he suggested, she'd be alone in this.

_ **N: You there??** _

_ **N: Miri??** _

_ **N: Look please, just take this instant-pay and go do it. Make it easy on both of us. ** _

_ **N: Please. I don't want this.** _

Miriam shook her head. She wasn't sure what she'd expected. She quickly deleted the messages and blocked his number. Maybe she'd try again later. Maybe she wouldn't. Whatever she did, it was up to her now. 

She took a steadying breath, raking her fingers through her hair and tossing the phone casually on the couch. She walked outside, letting the front door close behind her. It was late afternoon and the Nevada sun blazed hot overhead. Despite her pale, freckled skin, she'd always enjoyed the heat. Enjoyed the outdoors. She looked out at the small ranch--inherited after her mother had passed the year prior. 

God, it had been a shitty year.

And now what was she doing? 

Miriam grabbed a nearby bucket and headed into the small garden barefoot. She liked the soil beneath her feet. Somehow it made her feel more at home here than anything else. It was good. Grounding. _Distracting._ She carefully plucked the last of the summer tomatoes from their vines, popping one in her mouth and closing her eyes at the bright sweetness of it. She checked the squash and other autumn vegetables' progress. The garden served as her own personal project, and her own test bed for new techniques she wasn't quite ready to implement at Agrarium. The temperatures were always rising and weather patterns getting more and more unruly. The world, it seemed, needed every advantage it could get. 

It needed her work.

It needed _her._

It was satisfying, really. To see her progress. To watch something grow and thrive.

Before she could catch herself, she found a small smile passing her lips at that last thought.

\------

The day had been a blur as she now nervously jiggled her leg in the waiting room, anxious about making it _real._ It was a buzz of paperwork and busy staff, and she silently twirled a length of her bright red hair between her fingers.

"Miriam Sobeck?"

She nodded and rose, entering the room, trying her best not to think about the reality of the situation. It was all so new and awkward and personal and sterile at the same time. She daydreamed of being back in in the sun. Back in the dirt. Back in the garden she tried so hard to cultivate. There were paper gowns and metal and plastic and posters and a design along the wall that she tried so desperately to focus on, to block all else out. There were options and things to know and things to prepare for and timelines and dates and did she want to hear it?

Did she want to hear it?

The fiery redhead listened.

And then she _cried._

\------

Another two weeks of indecision and it was _obvious,_ she thought, hugging the porcelain. 

It hadn't been as bad as she'd been bracing for, but not exactly _agreeable_ either. 

There were bigger things to worry about. Choices to be made. Alone. 

Alone.

He'd made that clear. And that was...well, maybe that was fine. She'd never been the type to be scared. Mom had always called her _fearless._ Maybe she'd live up to the title. She cleaned off and then paced around on a warm Sunday, trying to keep her indecision, her anxiety at bay. She could put it off. Didn't have to think about it right now, right? There was time.

Not much time. Not before it would become so irrevocably true that she couldn't convince herself to do it. Before the evidence would face her in the mirror every morning looming less and less undeniable. 

She couldn't feel better, not in this house. She threw on an old loose t-shirt and shorts and gathered her things. She headed back into the garden, deciding it was better than nothing. She needed to clear her head, and there was no better way than working with your hands. As Miriam bent low and tended to the flora, she considered.

Considered the very work she did. Considered why it was needed as countless millions would starve in the coming decade--at least by most reports. She thought of how hard it would be with no real support. Sure, there were friends, and a few distant relatives. Miriam dug and scraped and pruned and watered, letting each step take its time. 

The sun was setting low as she finally put the tools away and shook off the dirt on her knees. She loved the view out here. Loved watching the sunset from the bench her grandmother had put in when her mother was a child. She took a groaning seat on the stone, more tired than usual and she was certain she knew the culprit. She placed a palm to her still-flat middle.

“Who will you be, kiddo?” she whispered.

She considered whether this was what she wanted--this reminder of recklessness. This part of her. This life. This potential. Like the greenery she had tended. The _hope_ inherent in the process. It was true either way: it was satisfying to watch something grow and thrive. 

And maybe, just maybe if she did it well enough, she'd leave behind someone curious, willful, unstoppable even. 

Maybe even with enough compassion to heal the world just a little bit.

**FEBRUARY 2065**

“GAIA, she was so...patient with me. I don’t know how she did it--don't know if I could. There was this one time—shit—I could have burned the whole property down with a solar PV, but of course—”

"You done for the day?" the woman in the bright blue headscarf asked. Samina Ebadji popped into Elisabet’s lab, the smallest ghost of a smile on her lips. Those were hard to come by these days. What was the point of feeling happy about any of it when the world would die in just under a year? Still, leave it to Samina to make the effort anyway.

"--Hold on, GAIA," she began. "Sorry. Uh, yeah. Almost. Give me a minute." She closed down the holo she was working with, saving her progress. She was two weeks ahead of schedule, but she couldn't afford to slip. Preparing the Earth to be re-seeded while death slowly encroached wasn't exactly the type of deadline you could afford to miss.

Elisabet followed after her, stealing glances down the hall. It was already eight at night, not that she could tell the time or the difference inside the Zero Dawn facility, but her Focus kept her informed. It was good to keep normal hours. It helped give some semblance of structure when everything was falling apart around them. She barely even watched the newsfeeds anymore; they were becoming more and more dire as the body count of Operation Enduring Victory continued. It made her feel sick. 

Still, that's why Samina had grabbed her. There was something between them--that much was undeniable, though the pair kept it mostly professional. There wasn't exactly a lot of opportunity for romance and though Elisabet despairingly wished circumstances could be different, they were left with hollowed out insides that screamed for relief and yearned for something _more_ than the cold, hard data that said humanity was slowly becoming extinct. They were each other's light in the dark. 

The two grabbed dinner in the mess hall, making small talk over their latest projects--the status of GAIA and APOLLO progressing nicely. They took their time, not that there was much of it to spare. But they could have this. Elisabet _needed_ this, or else she was sure she'd lose her damn mind. Food was cleared and they lingered, Samina casually linking their fingers beneath the table. Just for them, nobody else. It wasn't their business to know. There was more at stake and the gossip would only be a distraction.

But this was _also_ a distraction, Elisabet thought.

The two paced down the corridors until reaching Samina's room, where all earlier decorum was lost. Samina tore off her headscarf and kissed the redhead almost before the door had locked. Elisabet cupped her face, returning the eager motion. It was only in these moments that she it consume her. Let the desperation and anger and sadness roil through her and let Samina's touch heal her just enough to keep going for a few more days. Rinse. Repeat. 

Her insides ached with knowledge of what was to come. Of the uncertainty of their success. Fingers ran through bright red strands and Elisabet allowed the other woman to push her against the wall, hips meeting while their breathing became heavier and more ragged.

"Sam..." Elisabet began, but couldn't finish, a whine low in her throat.

"I know, love. I know."

There were hands and thighs and teeth and she tried so hard to stay here. Stay present. Let just one good thing happen, if for no other reason than the dopamine boost. Their clothes were quickly discarded to the floor and Elisabet pulled Samina toward the woman's bunk, trailing kisses along her neck, tracing the features of her body as they moved together. She tried to focus on Samina. She needed this just as badly as Elisabet did. It was raw and beautiful and terrible and joyful and joyless all at once.

Two bodies.

Moving as one.

As the world died around them.

\------

Elisabet hadn't stayed long after, gathering her clothes from the floor and giving Sam a parting kiss. They both knew they had things to do. More to accomplish. Sleep was in short supply around here and if she was going to feel like she'd _earned_ it, she'd better get a few items checked off the list.

Besides, they'd both gotten what they'd needed. Enough to push them both a few more days before the overwhelming agony of existential dread creeped in once again. Before one or both would break and knock on the other's door in the middle of the night, just for a few hours. Just to be _held._

The redhead ducked into her quarters, transferring her project from her office to the smaller workstation. It would do for tonight. She took a moment to step aside into the shower, letting hot rivulets run along pale, freckled skin. She scrubbed and hurried. Water rations only lasted so long. As she dried off, she wiped the mirror clear of steam, a sharp intake of breath as she caught her own green-gold eyes in the reflection. 

Their resemblance had always had an uncanny quality to it, and no one ever failed to mention it. Between the eyes and the hair and skin, she could understand it. But it was moments like these, moments where she caught a certain expression or a hint of hopeful world weariness that she saw it: the woman that carried the legacy of Miriam Sobeck. 

She sighed. Mom had worked so hard and her efforts had been the beginning of the clawback initiatives--her kind of work had become invaluable, really. Elisabet couldn't help but sadly smirk at the similarity. Too bad her work would only be seen as too little, too late. A band-aid on humanity's fuck-ups. Not like there'd be anyone to remember her personally, anyway. She was fairly certain she was going to terminate Lightkeeper once she had a moment to really think about it. She couldn't stand the idea of passing on the burden of what humanity had done--and the unyielding need to fix it--to any future Sobeck, clone or otherwise. 

Maybe it was better that she'd never made the time for her own, she thought.

The redhead dressed in sleep clothes and snapped her Focus back to her temple as she sat at her desk, bringing back up the holo from earlier. She tapped on a few settings, settling back into the rhythm of her work. 

"Okay, GAIA. Sorry about that. Where was I?"

"You were telling a story," the AI chimed in effortlessly. As if the conversation had never stopped.

"Right. Yeah... so, like I was saying, it was a children's electronics kit, but I'd hacked the wiring to an auto battery and solar PV, so the grass caught fire. And so did a tall pine that'd stood there, I don't know, maybe a hundred years." She cringed slightly. After all this time, she still felt bad about it.

"Query: You were how old?"

"Six. My mother was home, thank god, so she called the fire department and after, she took me out on the lawn and showed me the dead baby birds. Because there were nests in the pine tree."

"Query: What did you feel?"

Elisabet paused a moment, chewing on a pen near her desk and then giving up on the effort to instead tap her foot nervously. "I'm not sure. I remember yelling that I didn't care. And that's when my mother took my face in her hands and spoke."

"Query: What did she say?" the AI asked.

The redhead swallowed thickly. God, she missed her mother, especially now. Especially when she was so damn afraid. All. The. Time. "She said I had to care. She said, 'Elisabet, being smart will count for nothing if you don't make the world better. You have to use your smarts to count for something, to serve life, not death.'" She could barely get the words out as her voice cracked.

"You often tell stories of your mother. But you are childless," GAIA noted.

Elisabet sighed. It was too late for regrets now. And besides, losing a child to _this?_ Watching them get eaten alive by Faro bots? Or knowing that they'd spend the rest of their life in Elysium until one by one they all died out? She shuddered to consider how awful that might be. "I never had time," she said finally. "I guess it was for the best."

"If you had had a child, Elisabet, what would you have wished for him or her?" 

Elisabet's foot stilled and suddenly the ache from earlier was back in full force. In a way that burned through her with the bittersweetness of a future that would remain unlived. She considered for a few moments. _"Who would you be, kiddo?"_ she wondered to herself silently. "I guess...I would have wanted _her_ to be curious. And willful--unstoppable, even...but with enough compassion to heal the world--just a little bit."

She huffed. There was no way she was finishing this tonight. She was too distracted and it was clear even GAIA could tell. There was always tomorrow, she guessed. Of course--until there wasn't.

"Anyway, that's all I've got for now, GAIA. Time to tuck in," she finally said, pushing away from her desk and ruffling her hands through damp, fiery hair. She shut down her workstation and hit the lights, slowly climbing into her bunk.

"I wish you a pleasant sleep, Elisabet," the AI said soothingly.

"Thank you. I'll catch you tomorrow."

She tried to sleep. Tried to let the darkness consume her so she wouldn't have to think. Her conversation with GAIA had gotten to her. Had her thinking about the future she'd never get. About the planet she'd never see regrow or thrive. About the mother she missed so desperately. About the daughter she'd never have.

And still.

There was work to be done--a _hope_ inherent in the process. 

Her mother had taught her that.


End file.
